


The Cat and the Fiddle

by EllieMurasaki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn_bitesized, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-23
Updated: 2010-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-10 18:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/pseuds/EllieMurasaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bedtime in the Winchester-Harvelle traveling circus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cat and the Fiddle

Ellen locks the door to the corridor and runs a thin line of salt around the room, behind both beds, into the bathroom and behind the toilet, until the entire room's enclosed in a line of protection. Ellen sets down the salt box and goes over to the beds. Dean's curled around Jo, both of them facing away from the light Sam's reading by. Ellen kisses her fingertips and taps Dean on the forehead, then Jo, then turns to the other bed and repeats the ritual for Sam, confiscating his book. "Sleep," she suggests. "You know otherwise you'll be trying to sleep while your brother and sister are harassing you."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Yes, Mama." He slides down under the coverlet.

"Good night," Ellen says. A ragged chorus of "'night, Mama" answers her.

Mary leans across the threshold. "Sleep well."

"'Night, Mom," the kids say in three-part dissonance.

Ellen steps over two salt lines as she goes into the adjoining room, one straight across the doorway and one in an arc so Ellen can swing the door closed. One of the beds is mussed for the illusion of having been slept in, and Mary's sitting on the other, wearing a nightgown instead of T-shirt and shorts.

So that's how the wind blows tonight.

But there's shit to do still: adding an entry to the inventory book accounting for where money and supplies went to today, writing up what happened in the hunt they finished today, making notes on the children's progress in Shit Productive Citizens Must Know and Shit Surviving Hunters Must Know, and doing a general offloading of information onto paper for future reference. It is a nightgown night, though, and Mary's working it, leaning her journal on one bent knee and slowly stretching one long bare leg, breathing with only the top half of her lungs so that her breasts rise and fall.

Ellen finally tosses her journal onto the other bed, then grabs Mary's and sends it flying after. She runs the pen cap along the scar diagonal across Mary's thigh, then up to the hip where there's a ticklish spot. Mary giggles, then rolls, straddling Ellen and pinning her wrists to the headboard. "You know I hate that," Mary murmurs, low and warm.

"You were—" Ellen pauses: that sound, it's Jo, like something's wrong. But it's followed by Dean's voice, too quiet to make out words, so it's something he thinks he can handle. Nothing to worry about. "Teasing me," Ellen finishes.

Mary slips her hands under Ellen's shirt and undoes the bra, tugging it and the shirt up till Ellen's arms are tangled in the cloth. "It always works."

Ellen doesn't free her arms, that's not the point of this, but she does slide her arms over Mary's head and down, so Mary's as bound by the shirt as Ellen is. Mary grins and leans in, licking from Ellen's neck to her navel—

That is definitely the sound of Jo crying. And that's Sam's footsteps crossing the room.

Mary ducks out of Ellen's arms with a sigh and pulls the sheet up in case Sam comes in. Ellen hasn't got anything any of the children haven't seen, but she's also not bleeding.

Two soft knocks. "Yes?" Mary calls.

"Mom?" Sam says. "Jo had a nightmare."

"Just a moment," Mary says.

Ellen disentangles herself from the shirt and bra, then yanks the shirt back on. "Tahiti," she grumbles. "Ditch them somewhere—"

"Wilderness Survival 101," Mary says.

"And spend a fucking week on the beach."

Mary half-smiles—it's a well-worn fantasy—and goes to see what's up with their daughter. Ellen follows.


End file.
